Wolf Alice - Yuk Foo

Splat. That’s the sound of their tiny brains - the cranial matter of the boring bastards who drone on and on - blown out against the back wall. It’s dripping down like putrid red and pink custard. They’re done. They’re finished. Wolf Alice are back, and they’ve no time for any of their shite.

We thought we knew them already. Conjurers of real world magic that fused together the organic to make music that sparkled as much as it raged. While ‘Yuk Foo’ may fundamentally be the same band, it’s also something impossibly exciting and new.

Lights strobe. Noise grates like raw flesh against hard steel. Something, somewhere, is pulsing - a stress-driven migraine amidst a wall of distortion. Ellie Rowsell is growling, screaming even, her voice straining at the edges as it rips itself apart - equal parts unrelenting attitude and red hot fury. The spite is as good as another instrument as she calls out the world in increasingly vicious terms. One thread of bile is followed by an off-hand laugh, as chilling as it is unhinged. The sepia-filtered bonhomie of ‘Bros’ this isn’t.

Gloriously trashy and yet razor sharp, ‘Yuk Foo’ is the all the sass of a militant wing of the Spice Girls inducted into a Nine Inch Nails inspired death cult. Its eyes are set firm, its grin unnervingly fixed. It’s absolutely fucking glorious. Down with boring. Stephen Ackroyd